Under Circumstances
by The Shrubbery
Summary: Everyone needs a place to sleep - especially when you're twenty four. It's just a coincidence Arthur happened to move in with Eames for just that reason. (Arthur/Eames snippets)


**Hey, saw Les Miserables (downtown Chicago) yesterday. Kind of amazing.**

**So, this fic will be irregular and sporadic - perhaps frequent but short - or left unattended for long periods of time. However, I do hope you enjoy.**

**Do I ship Eames x Arthur? Not as much as Ariadne x Arthur, but I do love the two of them . :)**

**Uh, so this is pre-Inception movie. Way before, really.**

* * *

"You'll just have to excuse the mess."

Eames peeled off his coat and flung it onto the couch in one fluid motion. "Sit anywhere."

Eames's prickly facial hair bothered the man to no end and when Eames propped up his feet on the cluttered coffee table, there was a disdainful scoff that could be heard for miles. Eames grinned good-naturedly and asked, "You gotta problem?"

_Oh yes, there's the yogurt growing yogurt on your table and your socks who are growing yogurt and your sandwich that is attracting far too many insects to be pleasant..._

The man shook his head curtly.

Eames shrugged.

"Alright then, would you like me to interview you first or would you like to have the grand tour?" Eames asked, gesturing flamboyantly.

The man replied, "The interview."

Eames whipped out a notebook from under the couch cushion, much to the man's disgust, and appraised it for a moment. "Alrighty, do you have a girlfriend?"

"Pardon?"

"A girlfriend," Eames repeated.

"Ah, I don't see how this is relevant pertaining to the apartment -"

"Is she hot?" Eames interrupted.

The man pauses to insert a witty retort but obliges instead with, "No, I don't have a girlfriend which would thus nullify the second question's necessity."

"Are you okay with women?" Eames asked.

"Yes," the man replied, a little wearily.

"Are you okay with me having sex with women?"

Startled, the man flinched and took a step back. "I — I don't — I don't — yes...?"

"How about me having sex with women here?"

The man pursed his lips but he said, "It would be alright, I suppose."

"_Loud_ sex with women," Eames corrected with a wink.

"It's fine!"

Eames smiled and scribbled something down on the pad with a magically apparent pen. "Okay, you passed." He turned over the pad to reveal a rotund smiley face. "What did you say your name was, again?"

"Arthur," the man said with a grimace. "Will I regret this visit?"

"No," Eames said, grinning a little wider. He took Arthur's hand and led him to the inner quarters

* * *

There were two bedrooms, hidden behind the living room, facing each other in a spacious hallway. "A bathroom connects us," Eames said, opening the door to his room.

"You're not too well-maintained, are you?" Arthur muttered to himself, although Eames's sharp ears heard. His expression darkened for the slightest of moments before cheering up to a pleasant smile. He was twenty five, prime time, and thick-skinned so he didn't mind Arthur's blunt comments much. He rather enjoyed the bloke - straight and down-to-business that would be easy to talk to and easy to live with. They had been introduced to each other by a mutual friend — work — although neither one of them knew very well of the other.

Arthur didn't have a great impression of Eames, on the other hand. He had agreed to come check out the apartment (he was in need of one ever since his last roommate had gotten married) as a favor to Frederika, and had even bothered to dress up slightly better than usual (suits were difficult to best) and gel his hair, but so far, he found Eames tasteless and crude. He did seem to be quite gregarious, though, and Arthur allowed that straight-forward manner to somewhat appeal to him. But then there was the matter of his cleaning habits, or lack thereof.

Not too surprisingly, Eames's room was a mess. He had mounds of assorted clothing littered across the floor so Arthur had to tiptoe precariously across patches of scarcely seen carpet to avoid tripping. He had an urge to pick up a vacuum and give it a good sweep across the room, but he suppressed it and tried to breathe through his mouth.

"This is my room," Eames said, presenting it with a flourish. "Excuse the mess, I really wasn't expecting company."

Arthur couldn't help pointing out that he had made this appointment a week ahead but all Eames did was grunt and dismiss the comment with a wave.

"You're strangely tolerant," Eames said, "despite your stick-up-the-arse appearance." Giving a polite smile, Arthur tried not to look at the condom in the corner of the room. He hoped it wasn't used. "I don't have much time for cleaning, you see," Eames said. "Bloody work keeps me busy most of the time."

"From what I've heard, you're a forger," Arthur said, "so I would see why they would keep your time."

Eames nodded very slightly with a thinly veiled smile.

"And I heard you were quite the wingman," Eames said. "Although I don't believe that's for accompanying your mates to bars."

A tense silence enveloped the room as Arthur followed Eames into the bathroom.

It was simple — a relatively clean toilet next to a relatively clean sink. The shower stall had a suitcase in it. Arthur opened his mouth to ask but decided against it.

"Work," Eames explained. There was no more to explain.

And then there was Arthur's a room. There was one bare window, letting in slivers of slight leak through the dingy looking blinds. One bare bed, stripped of a mattress or sheets and one bare bookshelf.

"You can use the bed and bookshelf to your discretion," Eames said. "If you don't want it, I'll be taking a trip to the charity place tomorrow, so speak up quick."

Arthur's eyes skimmed over the surfaces. The bed looked old, but sturdy — clearly of good construction. He suspected it wasn't bought, but didn't want to think that Eames had stolen it. The bookshelf was the slightly flimsier, a glossy wood. A business card sat on one of the shelves, looking frail and pale against the deep maroon.

_Cobb_

Arthur's eyes widened and he turned back to Eames, who was oblivious to what Arthur saw. "I'll take it," Arthur said, firmly.

"The bed and the bookcase?" Eames said. "Good. I was worrying if I would have to lug it all the way down to the junkyard." He smiled.

"Oh yes, I'll be wanting that," Arthur said, "but I was talking about this room here."

Eames was a little baffled. He wasn't sure if the man had actually wanted to move in, despite Frederika's insistence, but he was actually pleasantly surprised. Clearly, he wouldn't need to worry about cleaning for a while. "Well, that's fantastic," Eames said enthusiastically, grabbing Arthur's hand and shaking it. "Glad to be flatmates with you."

"And you," Arthur said, with less vigor.

And even though Arthur had stiffened against the touch, Eames hugged him.

* * *

**Whoot! This only took one day to write! Fantastic! **

**All my chapters will only take one day to write, as well. 'Til next time.**


End file.
